


After dark comes light

by ThunderCat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-05 02:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11568198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderCat/pseuds/ThunderCat
Summary: Can two people with troublesome pasts and broken hearts find comfort in each other?





	1. Marcus

All Marcus Flint ever wanted in his life was playing Quidditch. It was the only thing he was ever good at. He was neither good looking like most of his friends, nor overly charming and nobody would ever accuse him of being intelligent. There was a reason they called him _troll_ behind his back during his Hogwarts years. He might have been a bit dumb, but he wasn't deaf.

Not that it mattered, as long as he could ride his broom and play the game he could care less what others thought. Up there, with the wind biting in his face and the adrenaline rushing through his veins the real world didn't matter.

Not the way he looked, his less than stellar notes, the people talking behind his back, Slytherin politics, his drinking mother nor his sadistic father who was too busy liking the Dark Lords boots most of the time to even realise he had a son. During the game, he was free.

So, no one was astonished when he pursued a professional career in Quidditch. With nineteen he signed his first contract with the Falmouth Falcons as a Chaser and helped his team a great deal to win the cup that year.

 

 

He was wildly known and feared for his aggressive behaviour, in and outside the pitch and more than one opponent had found that out the painful way. It was nearly two years after joining the team that a heated argument with a player from a different team ended in a bloody fight, which put the looser in the hospital and himself on the penalty bench. Gibson, his trainer, flat out refused to let him back on the broom as long as he didn't change his ways.

Marcus wanted to balk at the very idea but Gibson made it crystal clear that he wouldn't need to come back should he not play along. So, in the end he had no choice but to allow some nancy boy to polish up his image and appearance, at least to some degree. You couldn't turn a bad boy into every mother-in-law’s dream over night, but obviously it was possible to soften the rough edges enough to find the approval of the press.

His _make-over_ included a new set of teeth, which now were white and straight, a new haircut and a crash course in talking with the press as well as some anti-aggressive training which only made his blood boil some more. But he wanted to play Quidditch and if he had to take it a down a notch or two to do so, he would grit his teeth and comply. He could still let his anger out on the pitch. As long as he did not seriously maim anyone and did his job Gibson would look over it.

And he soon discovered that his make-over had its benefits. With his new look and rough attitude witches were now falling over themselves to get to him and Marcus found out that it was a wonderful way to let off some steam, outside the pitch. There had always been witches who would do anything and anyone for their five minutes of fame, after all he was a wildly known Quidditch player, but with his new appearance he only had to grin at a witch to have her jumping his bones.

Being a man, he took full advantage of it. There was barley a weekend where he and his best mate Adrian didn't hit the clubs, drinking and taking the most beautiful witches back home with them, or to the next dark corner. The Falcons had the best season in their history and in Marcus opinion his life couldn't be much better.

 

 

But that all ended with the death of Albus Dumbledore. Marcus had never been a fan of the old fool, but he had never dreamed that his death would mean the end of his profession as a Quidditch player or that of everyone else. But it was that fateful day in June 1997 when the dark mark showed over the sky of Hogwarts that initiated the end of professional Quidditch. Two month later he and the rest of his team were unemployed and as if that wasn't bad enough, his father seemed to remember that he existed and wanted him to join his ranks with the Death Eaters.

Though he was Slytherin and a Pureblood, Marcus never shared the believes of some of his house mates. He never hated anyone for their blood status. There were few enough people he could stand over a lengthen period and blood had nothing to do with it. But he didn't have a choice. He could either take the dark mark and do what he was told to do, or being tortured to death.

The following year had been the darkest of his life. He was forced to do things that would hunt him in his dreams till his last breath and others that made him sick just thinking about it. Things he just wanted to forget but never would. In some case being alive and able to remember any moment of your deeds is the greatest punishment of all.

But the darkest point, the one that would always flutter before his eyes when he tried to close them and brought the change was the day his farther and two other Death Eaters took him on a raid. To relive some of their boredom, as they put it. They tortured, maimed, raped and killed while Marcus was shell shocked standing beside them.

It was the moment they forced him to rape the young witch -Madeline- that he finally used the few brain cells he was graced with and made a decision. The decision to stop being a coward and fight the madness that was taking place around him.

 

He still remembered her, bloody and beaten barley covered by the shreds that once had been her clothes. Her petite body shaking like a leave, her eyes red and puffy from her tears and her blond hair red from all her blood. Her shaky voice pleading him not to hurt her.

In all his life, he had never forced himself on a woman, but he knew what his father and the other two would do if he refused. They would not only kill him but rape her even more brutally. So, he had done it under the hooting and encouraging shouts of the Deaths Eaters. He did his best to make it as painless as possible but the fact remained that it was rape.

The memory alone was enough to make him want to puke his guts out.

He wanted to whisper to her that he was sorry, that he didn't want to do it and that he would find a way to rescue her, but he didn't dare to utter a word with the others around.

Marcus remembered his farther proudly patting his back afterwards and proclaiming that he always knew that he had it in him. He remembered the other two laughing loudly and the little witch whimpering softly in the background.

That was the moment Marcus knew what he had to do, he told the others that he wasn't finished with her and asked his father to spend a little more time alone with her. Henry Flint had only laughed and nodded light headedly as if he had just asked permission to test out a new broom, and with a plop the three Death Eaters vanished.

For a moment, he didn't know what to do, where to bring her, how to help her but he couldn't let her die. So, he scooped her up in his arms all the while trying to sooth her and ensure her that he wouldn't hurt her. Nobody would. Ever again. And with a flick of his wand he appareted them to the only person he could think of able to help her.

 

 

Valerie Duboi, ex-healer of the Falmouth Falcons and sister of Kingsley Shaklebolt as he later found out. Valerie had been shocked to find him standing in front of her door, though he couldn't say if she was more shocked about him in his Death Eater robes or the bleeding crying woman in his arms. But she didn't ask a question only gestured him in and immediately got down to business. It was her quick wit and professional skill that rescued Madeline, though later he wasn't sure if she really wanted to be rescued.

Even though she never outright told him so, it was clear that a great part of her died that day, together with her parents and her two little brothers.

Marcus himself felt as if something had died inside himself, he felt numb, sick and disgusted with himself at the same time. He had absolutely no idea what he should do. It was Valerie who showed him the way out of the dark pitch he had been sucked in.

Half an hour later Kingsley Shaklebolt stepped through the door and Marcus was convinced that he had come to end his life. He didn't even care or made any effort to raise his wand. Whatever punishment was chosen for him wouldn't be enough anyway. But instead of torturing or killing him Shaklebolt simply sat down in front of him and looked him in the eyes. Till this day Marcus didn't know why, but the words simply flooded out of his mouth. He told him everything. The end of his Quidditch career, getting the dark mark, the raids, the deaths, torture and finally the rape.

“And now?” Kingsley finally asked.

“Now?” He'd asked confused.

“Yes. Now. What will you do now?”

“I...I. I want...”

“What do you want?” Kingsley interrupted his pathetic stammering.

“I want it to stop. All of it.”

“Then make it stop!”

That was the day he changed sides. The day he started to be a spy for the order and he had never made a better decision.

He wasn't part of the inner circle and the information he could provide wasn't that much but during that last fight, on the grounds of Hogwarts, he was able to make a change. He fought and killed but this time it was for a reason; to rid the world of the evil Voldemort stood for. To end the torture, the fear and the madness, so that his son would be able to live in a better world.

It was the thought of Madeline pregnant with his child that made him fight with deadly cold precision. He would not allow this madman to take over and force his kid into the same dark hole he had been pushed in, before he was even born.

They won and it was his decision to change sides that spared him Azkaban in the end. Kingsley spoke for him as well as the Partil twins who he rescued during the last battle, but it was Madeline who shocked him the most. Not only did she defend him, she forgave him.

Marcus hadn't wanted her forgiveness, he wasn't worthy of it but he cherished it anyway. Valerie had taken it upon herself to look after the young witch and given her a home and Marcus was thankful for it. He supported her with money, and after the battle was over he visited her daily thankful and uncomfortable at the same time that she would even allow him in the same room as her.

 

 

It was three weeks before she was due that the bleeding started. They had been sitting outside, enjoying the warm summer air when Madeline suddenly started screaming, Marcus had been hit by a wave of panic and it was only due to Valerie’s forceful voice that he was ripped out of his state and was able to apparete her to St-Mungos.

It was August the 23 1998 at precisely 17.43 p.m. that Ewan James Flint entered the world. And it was six minutes later, after she named and kissed her son that Madeline Arlington closed her eyes and never opened them again. The blood loss was to great and her spirit too broken.

Sitting there with his new born son in his arms and the dead body of his mother in front of him Marcus Flint allowed the tears that welled up behind his eyes to fall freely.

TBC


	2. Hermione

_April, 5 years later:_

Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, starred down at the article in the newspaper and not for the first time in her life she wished she would be also the strongest witch. Fruitlessly she fought against the tears that welled up in her eyes.

„Mione do you... “Blaise Zabini who had just flooed into her home stopped mid-sentence and rushed to her side as he noticed the crying witch on the kitchen table. “What happened cara?”

Hermione could practically feel the exact moment his eyes landed on the newspaper headline and the oversized moving picture below. “War hero and his wife expecting second child!”

“Pathetic wanker and his slut is more like it.” The Italian wizard muttered angrily.

“Blaise!” Hermione snapped but there was no real heat behind it. They both knew he was right but that didn't change the fact that it still hurt.

“He isn't worth a single of your tears, Mione!”

“I know, it's just...” She whispered miserable. “I don't want him any longer, but it still hurts to see them like this.”

“I know cara, I know. Come here.” He raised her petite form from the chair and changed position with her so that she was sitting on his lap where she buried her face into his chest.

 

Six years ago, after the war, the path of life had been so clear. Though their losses had been great they had defeated Voldemort and the Wizard World could respire. Harry, Ron and herself had been awarded with the Order of Merlin first class and were finally able to live their lives without the dark shadow of some evil wizard above them. She and Ron were finally together after their kiss during the battle and Hermione had never been happier.

After she completed her last year at Hogwarts she started her training as a healer in St-Mungos which she finished, typically Hermione Granger, in two years instead of three. Ronald had purposed to her two months before her last exam and she had happily accepted. She was practically glowing during those months and as Blaise so eloquently put it, made more than one wizard wish to be the man who put that glow into place. For a short while Hermione Granger soon to be Weasley had been the happiest witch alive and it seemed that all her dreams had come true; she graduated with the highest N.E.W.T.'s score in over five hundred years, completed her apprenticeship in record time and was going to marry her childhood sweetheart.

That all changed however with her final medical check-up. It was routine for everyone who wanted to work as a healer so she wasn't really worried about it. It wasn't even the fateful news that shattered her world. Hermione knew that her torture session with Bellatrix LeStrange had left her somewhat damaged but it still hit her like a buck of ice cold water when the healer told her that it was very unlikely for her to ever have children.

_Three percent_. Three! That was her whole chance to ever hold a baby in her arms.

But it was Ron who truly broke her. After she told him nothing was ever the same. Of course he tried to comfort her, he cried with her and told her three percent were still a chance and when the time was right they would start their family. But looking back now, Hermione knew it was that day that things started to change. They never got married, or really tried to get that kid. No, Ron gave up on her long before that.

Six month later, five weeks before their wedding date her heart was being crushed, as if it was nothing more than an annoying insect. Of course, she had to find out through Rita Skeeter, who surely had a field day when she was able to report that Hermione Grangers oh so supporting and loving finance had managed to impregnate the one and only Lavender Brown, who had the gall to tell the press that their love child wasn't an accident by any means and Ronald was only still together with Hermione because he felt bad for her, maimed as she was.

Hermione could not remember a time in her life where she'd felt more hurt, humiliated and crushed as in that very moment. Needless to say, that she had hexed the fucking bastard six ways to Sunday the very moment he had the nerve to show up at her door, looking nervous and ashamed telling her that every single word she had read was true.

From one day to the other Hermione's perfect life had been in shambles and everyone around her seemed to find a way to kick her some more while she was at her lowest.

Molly by patting her hand and telling her that maybe it was for the best. After all she wanted a career and Ron was the family type. ´ _A family she could never provide him with`_ hung unspoken in the air.

Harry by doing what he always did, choosing Ron's side over hers in the end.

Ginny by following Harry's lead and many others for their looks of pity in her direction while they clapped Ron on the back, congratulating him to his upcoming fatherhood.

But the biggest slap to her face had been when the _happy couple_ pronounced that they wanted to hold their wedding reception on their wedding day. It was Lavenders idea -of course it was -Hermione though bitterly. She could still hear the words ringing in her ear. _“Everything is already planned, it would be a shame not to make the best out of it. Of course, I have to change the awful design and make a few changes here and there but you have to work with what you have.”_

She had even received an invitation to the godforsaken event!

No one, not even Dolohov, Fenrir or Bellatrix had managed to break her till that point, but a witch could only take so much and the invitation had been the final kick in the guts.

For days, she'd been nothing more than a crying mass and hadn't it been for Blaise and Luna she would never have found the strength to get herself back together. It was hard and cost her more time than she liked to admit but she survived and bit by bit she remodulated herself. It was a new version of the Hermione everyone knew. A stronger one who promised herself to never let someone hurt her like that ever again.

 

These days she was cautious with her trust as well as with her friendship. If the situation with Ron had showed her one thing, it was who her true friends were. Funnily enough most of them were Slytherins, who she befriended after the war. Some, like Blaise, during the summer they tried to rebuild Hogwarts, others like Astoria and Adrian at charity events and some...well she wasn't sure how she happened to become friends with Draco Malfoy, but somewhere through the years it happened.

She was still close with Neville and even closer with Luna who both refused to go to Ron's and Lavender's wedding. A fact that the happy couple still had not forgotten and forgiven.

Her relationship with the Weasley matriarch had reasonable cooled down to the point where they only exchanged a few nice necessaries when they run into each other. And basically, the same could be said for Harry in Ginny.

Other as in her Hogwarts years, Hermione was on good terms with the twins who'd made it their personal mission to make Ron their primal guinea pig, while his wife made sure not to come near them after they tricked her into eating one of their hair losing charms.

When he was in the country Charlie made sure to take her out dancing. He'd also made it clear on more than one occasion that he was open for more, but Hermione knew that he would never leave his dragons, they would always come first. As she was neither willing to move out of England nor come second to one’s job they settled for being friends.

 

So, all in all Hermione could call a lot of people her friends, even if it weren't the same she would have labelled three years ago. She was successful in her job, quite popular with her patients and respected by her colleagues. And due to receiving the Order of Merlin first class and the money that came with it, she was financial quite comfortable. Others would say the curly haired witch lived a wonderful life and should be happy with it – and she was. Most of the time.

But in moments like this, when she was forced to partake in Ron and Lavender's happy bubble she was once again reminded of her failure as a woman.

Which man would ever want to settle down with her? Her status as war heroine and famous goody-goody-two-shoes did not make her lack on male attention. There were enough wizards who wanted a night with Hermione Granger, so that they could tell the world about it, but they weren't really interested in her as a person. Hell, not even in her body as she had the displeasure to overhear two guys one evening. According to them she was too small, too curvy and too plain looking to please the eyes, in the light of the day. But she was famous and apparently that was enough to overlook her less than appealing appearance.

However even her heroic status could not cover up for her lacking ability to give birth to a child. And thanks to her chatty healer and the always malicious Rita Skeeter the whole world knew it.

 

“I'm sorry for ruining your shirt,” she said sniffing as she leant back and tried to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

“You can ruin as many of my shirts as you like, if it makes you feel better afterwards, cara!”

“Given that everything you wear no doubt costs more than what I earn in a month probably not.” She laughed still a little shaky from her crying session.

“Well I've got an image to maintain,” Blaise drawled with the arrogance only a Pureblood could manage and winked at her. “My fans count on me.” Giggling she remembered that he was elected, by some trashy witch magazine, as the best dressed wizard of the year. Which managed to inflate his already oversized ego.

“You spend more money on clothes than any woman I know and that says something considering I witnessed Daphne and Tory on their shopping trip more than once.” She shuddered remembering those few occasions where she hadn't been able to find an excuse and was dragged along by the sisters.

“Speaking about shopping trips what will you wear to the ball?” Her smile vanished instantly, the light mood forgotten.

“I'm not going!” She would rather poke her eye out than go to the five-year Annual Ball which took place on the second of May in memory of their victory, where she would be forced to encounter the happy couple. Last year had been bad enough. Charlie had accompanied her and nearly ripped Ron a new one as he accused her of only associating with this brother to get back on him. This year she would be dateless and would have to face a pregnant Lavender. No, there was no need to humiliate herself any further.

“Cara...”

“No,” she answered stubbornly and jumped from his lap. “I've neither a date nor a dress!” Nor the strength to face them all on my own. She thought bitterly.

“You could always go with one of us!”

“Blaise, I know you mean well but we both know Draco will got with Tory, Charlie is in Romania, Adrian finally managed to gather his courage to ask Luna out and you have to take the winner of that stupid fashion contest to the ball.” Groaning he shut his eyes. Obviously, he'd forgotten about is stupid agreement to be the first price in one of Witch weekly's competitions.

“What about Theo or the Gryffindork klutz?”

“His name is Neville and no!” As much as she liked Neville, Blaise was right about the klutz part. She would embarrass herself only further. “And Theo won't be back from his expedition until June.”

“The twins?”

“Are still both married!”

“What about -”

“Let it rest, Blaise okay? There is no one who would go to the ball with me, who isn't simply looking for a picture in the prophet and the potential to boast that he managed to get into my pants. I'm sure there are still betting pools on who manage to get the frigid bitch laid first!” She snapped angrily and could once again feel traitorous tears well up behind her eyes.

“I don't want to go there and face Lavender's smug smile and listen to all of them whisper behind my back or looking at me with pity because I'm not even able to find a date let alone a wizard who would settle down for damaged goods like me!” Hermione yelled, while she fought against those stupid tears. She could sense Blaise attempt to gather her in his arms once again and comfort her in the only way he knew. But she didn't want to have another breakdown in front of her friend, so she hurriedly turned around and run into her bedroom where she promptly fell to her bed and cried.

Something she had done far too often these last three years.

 

TBC


	3. Marcus

_March, 1 year later:_

Marcus was fighting hard against the wave of panic he felt as he rushed down the corridors of St.-Mungos, but the sound of his sobbing son, which he held securely in his arms, made it nearly impossible. People sprung out of his way, cursing him for his rude behaviour but he could care less.

“Everything will be alright, buddy,” he muttered towards Ewan and wasn't sure who he wanted to calm with that statement. His son or himself.

Finally, he could see the reception of the children's medical unit. “My son is hurt, he needs to see a healer immediately!” He yelled at the startled witch behind the desk.

“Sir, please calm down,” a nurse who'd just come out of one of the rooms tried to reason with him, but Marcus wasn't willed to listen.

“Didn't you hear me? He's hurt!” His heart was beating so fast he thought it would jump out of his chest. He hadn't felt that kind of fear since his Death Eater days. Merlin help him!

“Sir, you have -”

“If you don't call a healer this instant I swear I will-”

“What is going on here?”

His angry shout was interrupted by an authority laced voice which left no doubt that she was the one in charge. The woman the voice belonged to was standing in the door-frame of one of the treatment rooms. His first thought was that she was cute, with her curly hair and petite but curvy body, his second that she looked strangely familiar. Marcus frowned but before he had time to comb through his memory Ewan whimpered in his unconscious state and his attention snapped back to his son.

“My son, you must help him!” He could feel his panic raising again, but before he could be overwhelmed the curly haired woman was by his side.

“What happened?”

“He nicked my broom and fell of it. I wasn't quick enough to catch him.” He thought his heart would stop the moment he saw Ewan climbing on his firebolt. Marcus was sure he'd never been that quick in his life but regardless of his quick feet and panic sicken warnings he wasn't able to reach him in time. Helplessly he'd been forced to watch his son fall to the ground, the excited and happy smile on his lips turning into a shocked O before a frightened scream left his lips. It was a memory that would surly haunt him in his sleep for many nights to come.

 _Well it will be in good company_ , a mocking voice remained him.

“Follow me!”

Marcus did not hesitate to do as he was told and quickly stepped into the treating room where he was told to put Ewan down on one of the examination tables, but refused to let go of his son completely. The witch didn't waste time with telling him to stand back or introducing herself to him, she simply fetched her wand and started to flick it over Ewan’s little body.

Anxiously he watched her work. His eyes scanned her carefully hoping she would give something away, that would tell him about Ewan's condition while she fussed over her patient. He noticed that although her face was an unmoving mask of concentration, her warm brown eyes were filled with concern and determination. Whoever this witch was, she had not lost her compassion over the years. Marcus got the feeling that she truly cared and wasn't simply doing her job cause she had to.

Somehow that awareness calmed him and he allowed his frightened mind to think clearly again. She made a complicated movement with her wand that had Ewan's small fingers go limp in his giant hand. At first, he wanted to fall into his panic again but then he realised that she had put him into some sort of magical sleep.

The witch obviously noted his quick intake of breath and for the first time she spared a quick glance in his direction. Most people were hesitant to look him directly in the eye, even these days. They had the habit to quickly avoid his eyes, but the witch didn't seem daunted by his imposing figure. Her warm brown eyes looked directly into his unmoving grey ones and then she smiled at him. It was nothing more than a small reassuring gesture but Marcus could feel himself sighing in relive even before she spoke to him.

“What is his name?” She asked and softly stroked Ewan’s stubborn dark hair out of his forehead.

“Ewan. His name is Ewan.”

“I've put Ewan into a healing sleep. His wounds are not marginal but not as severe as I first thought. He has a concussion, a broken rip and his left arm is partially fractured but that's nothing I can't heal with the right potion.” Her glance wandered back to his son for a second before she looked up again. “I will need to collect them but you don't need to worry. He isn't feeling any pain while in this state.”

And with a last small smile in his direction she left the room to fetch the needed potions, leaving him alone with his son. And his guilt. Now that the overwhelming fear for his live was over he couldn't help but feel guilty. It was his slip of attention that caused the accident. He knew how much Ewan loved to fly and knew better than to be so careless about his broom. Normally it was locked away, but he'd been in a hurry today, after his morning flight and left it beside the front door.

He was still busy blaming himself when the door opened and the petite witch stepped through again her hands full with colourful looking potions.

“Are they all for Ewan?” He asked uncertain at the sheer amount of them.

“Don't worry. This one is for you,” she laughed and handed him a phial with a familiar looking substance. “You looked like you could use it!”

Calming Draught, hell if it wasn't the truth. Without thinking twice about it he took it and thanked her.

“You're welcome.”

After he took the potion he was finally able to loosen the death grip he had on Ewan’s little hand and relax a little. He watched her go through another series of spells and this time he didn't feel as if would jump out of his skin any minute. Instead he was finally able to concentrate on the witch in front of him.

He studied her features and was once again overcome by the feeling that he knew her. But he couldn't put his fingers on it. Maybe one of his former flings? No, she was not the type, too classy. She was pretty in the girl next door kind of way not one of the slutty beauties he went after in his wild time. School days? Hmm, probably but he hadn't been the social butterfly back then and could count the names of the people he associated with on one hand. None of them girls. He hadn't been handsome enough to rouse the interest of any female. Not even rich enough to make a Slytherin look twice in his direction.

Slowly his eyes wandered over her body and Marcus couldn't deny that she held a certain appeal. In the past, before Ewan was born, he would not have spared her a second glance. He'd gone for tall, thin and sluttery witches with shiny hair and empty heads. The woman in front of him was petite and curvy with a mass of unruly hair that had his fingers twitching to touch it. She obviously possessed a quick wit and brilliant mind and radiated a warmth that was quite inviting. At least for a man like him.

Shaking his head, he tried to rid himself of his ridiculous thoughts. A woman like that would never fall for a guy like him. She was all light and warmth while he was rough, dark and moody.

“Have you tried to use child-proof-charms?”

The unexpected question ripped him out of his musings. Raising an eyebrow, he looked at her.

“You said he fell from your broom,” Marcus winced but nodded. “There are a couple of charms you could use to prevent situations like that.”

“Um, I never thought of that.” He had to admit and couldn't help but feel embarrassed as he further added. “And I doubt I would be able to cast such spells. I was never really good at charms and domestic magic in particular contains delicate hand movements.” To show her what he meant he raised his hand which held a respectable resemblance to a prank.

She didn't laugh at him, he had to give her that much. And thank Merlin she didn't look at him with the kind of pity he often had to endure during his Hogwarts days. It wasn't as if his magic was weak or he was slow in the head or something, he simply wasn't made for the finer magical arts.

“Oh, I might be able to help you there.” Again, she smiled before she continued. “A lot of parents aren't able to do child proof charms or are afraid they miss something, so a colleague and myself started to provide such services.”

“I would like that,” he nodded without hesitating. He would do everything to guaranty Ewan’s safety and he felt kind of ashamed that he never even thought about hiring someone to place a few spells around the house.

“You can make an appointment at the reception on your way out. But first let me take care of Ewan, all right? I will have to wake him up so he can take the potions. He might be uncomfortable for a moment but please try not to overreact.”

Marcus nodded stiffly, though he wasn't sure if he could keep his promise.

In the end, he was able not to freak out but the little whimpers and the big fat tears that ran down his son’s cheek made it very difficult. Fifteen minutes later he was standing beside the bed with Ewan’s sleeping body in his arms. The curvy healer was just about to pass through the door. He still didn't know her name.

“Thank you for your help, healer - ?”

“Granger. Hermione Granger!” And with a last friendly wave she was gone.

* * *

 

_Three days later:_

Marcus still couldn't believe that Hermione Granger -one third of the Golden Trio – was standing in his home. Well she was currently kneeling on the floor in Ewan’s room, while his son was happily showing her his favourite toys.

Usually the six-year-old was a bit shy around strangers. A habit Marcus wasn't unhappy about at all. He knew what kind of individuals were out there and it calmed his nerves to know that his son wouldn't trust anybody he didn't know a bit better. So, it was a little bit surprising to see how quickly and wholeheartedly he had taken to the curly haired witch.

Sometime during their walk through his home, which she was trying to make childproof, Ewan’s hand slipped out of his and into Grangers. She'd looked down with a warm smile on her face and asked him about his favourite things; colour (red – Marcus hoped that would chance till Hogwarts) animal (dragon – the admiring look on his face when she told him about her ride on said beast was still visible), book (of course Granger had to ask that!), Quidditch player (daddy -Marcus could practically feel his chest fill with pride), toy (thus the reason they were currently in his room).

Using the opportunity to observe, Marcus remained standing beside the door. He'd spent a great amount of time thinking about the witch in front of him over the last three days since leaving the hospital. His memories from their school days were rather foggy as he'd been older and in another house. Mostly he remembered Malfoys whining over the 'bush-haired know-it-all' who bested him in every subject. He remembered the Yule Ball, not in specific but she'd made such an impression on his whole house that

He certainly was impressed. Not just about her looks, but also her warm and inviting personality. She had smiled at him so easily the last few hours, as if it was the most natural thing to do. For her it might be, but Marcus couldn't remember the last time a witch had looked at him with such a happy face, simply because he opened a door for her or thanked her for helping him with the safety charms. He watched her intensely listening to Ewan's excited blather and for a moment, he asked himself what it would be like to have a woman like her in their lives? With an inward sigh, he pushed that thought to the side. A witch like her wasn't for someone like him.

“Where did you get this?” Hermione's voice ripped him out of his thoughts. Looking around he tried to find out what she was talking about. She was standing in front of Ewan's old crib, that was used as a storeroom for toys, these days. He should have put it in the attic, but Marcus couldn't bring himself to move the piece of furniture. Not after all the work he'd put into it.

“I made it.”

“Really? It is beautiful.” She was looking at him with a mixture of surprise and awe, which made him extremely uncomfortable. Handwork was something that was frowned up in the Wizarding world. Why use your hands if you could use magic? Marcus wasn't used to praise for his work, but he could see that she meant it. Her hands glided carefully over the engravings in the rosewood and came to a rest over Ewan's full name and birth date.

The wistful look on her face once again made question the lack of a ring on her finger. Why didn't she have any children?

“Do you have children, Miss Hermione?” Ewan who had watched the witch, much like his father, piped up. Instantly a look of anguish covered her face before she tried to cover it with a wobbly smile.

“No honey. I don't have children.” The way she said it didn't sound as if her lack of children was by choice. With alarm Marcus noticed that she was fighting to hold back tears. His body stiffened at the prospect. He hated crying witches. Regardless of all his muscles he felt as helpless as an infant in situations like this. Once again it was his son who took matters into his own hands. Ewan was plucking on her robes so that she would lean down to his level, which she did.

“Then you have more time to play with me, right?”

Laughing she stroked over his head before she nodded enthusiastically.

For another hour, he watched the witch play with his son. Both had obviously forgotten about him, but that was okay with him. He remained leaning against the door and watched them. If he couldn't have the real thing, he could at last have the illusion.

TBC


	4. Hermione

_April Fool's day:_

“What is she doing here?” Hermione closed her eyes as she heard the haughty voice of Lavender Weasley behind her.

It was the twin’s birthday and she'd come by for a quick afternoon visit. Fred had told her that they were expected at the Borrow for dinner, so she had thought it unlikely to run into one of the others at the shop. Last of all Lavender, who normally avoided to be anywhere near the two troublemakers, after she had been at the end of their jokes ones too often.

“The question is, what are you doing here? Other as Hermione you weren't invited!” George angry voice could be heard.

“Oi, don't talk to my wife like that!” Of course, Ron had to be with her.

Hermione wished a hole would open and swallow her. Until a minute ago, she had laughed and had a good time with the twins and their wives. Now she felt as if a Dementor had sucked all the joy out of her, leaving her vulnerable and weak. She knew it was ridiculous. She'd faced Death Eaters, when she had been a mere girl, but she couldn't find the strength in her to confront Ron.

“Maybe your wife should learn, to keep her mouth shut. Than nobody would feel compelled to tell her off!” Katie Weasley, George wife, hissed at Ron. Hermione wasn't sure why but the former Gryffindor chaser, hated Lavender nearly as much as she herself. Without turning around, she spoke up before the situation could get worse.

“Don't worry guys, I wanted to leave anyway.”

“Hermione, you don't have to go. It's them who aren't welcome.”

“Oi-”

“Shut up, Ron!” Both twins interrupted their younger brother.

With a forced smile, she shook her head. “No, it's okay, really. I will stop by sometime this week. Enjoy your birthday. Bye!” Ignoring Lavender's muttered insult, she hurried out of the shop. It wasn't before she walked down a far end of Diagon Alley that she could breathe normally again.

She didn't pay much attention to her surroundings, simply hurried towards the next Apparation point so it was no surprise that she crashed into another person. A tall and well-muscled person. Her lithe, slim body had no chance against that and she stumbled backwards. She would have fallen, not to gracefully on her behind, hadn't it been for the pair of hands that steadied her.

“I'm so sorry,” she stuttered as she finally found her balance again.“I wasn't looking where...Mr. Flint?” Surprised she looked at the tall wizard in front of her and felt herself flush as she realized that he still had his hands around her, which left them in close proximity. Close enough for her to notice that he smelled extremely good. A very masculine mix of leather of wood, which she found quite intoxicating. He noticed her flush and the position they were in and hastily stepped back.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, thank you, though I should be asking you that question.” Of all the Wizards in the world, she had to run into him. Something about his presents made her incredible nervous. Not in a bad way, quite the opposite in fact. That didn't happen often and Hermione wasn't sure how to handle her attraction for the man. He had popped up in her thoughts more than once over the last few days, ever since her visit at his home. She suddenly noticed that Ewan was not with him and asked him after the boy.

“He is with his playgroup. Every Thursday they have a special afternoon. I just dropped him off.”

Hermione was surprised that someone like him, who was clearly raised in Pureblood tradition would put his son inside a playgroup. They were becoming quite popular in the Wizarding World, but the old families usually preferred private tutoring. But she didn't want to appear rude so held her curiosity in check.

“Would you like to have a coffee with me?”

Blinking she starred at the man. It took her a moment to realize that he asked her a question and even a bit more until his words sunk in. By then he was taking her silence the wrong way.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have...”

“No!” She hastily said. “I mean yes. I would like to have a coffee with you, Mr. Flint.”

A barely visible smile formed on his lips as he offered her his arm. “Just Markus. Mr. Flint was my father and he is nobody I like to remember.”

Hermione nodded and allowed him to walk her into one of the small cafés, hesitant to continue.

“Where is he now?” She finally asked.

“Dead.” The way he said it, she knew it was better to let it rest.

 

 

“So, tell me a bit about yourself. If I remember correctly you were a few years ahead of me at Hogwarts. What did you do afterwards?” She asked after the waitress took their order and left. He seemed surprised about her question, but answered her anyway, as he pulled the chair out for her. Although most of her Slytherin friends showed the same flawless manners, she always enjoyed being at the receiving end of them. It made her feel special and cared for.

“I played Quidditch for some time.”

“You mean as a profession?”

His lips twitched slightly. “You don't know much about Quidditch, do you?”Other as Ron or Harry, who always seemed insulted by her lack of interest in the sport, Marcus was clearly amused.

“No. Other as my friends I never saw what the fuss was about. They tried to explain their fascination to me a million times, but I still can't comprehend why someone would risk getting hit by a budger while he is riding a broom.” She shuddered just thinking about falling from a broom.

“It's like a more exciting game of chess.”

“Chess?” Hermione asked in disbelieve.

“Yes, Quidditch is all about strategy and winning, just with more adrenaline!”

None of her friends had ever explained it like that. Normally they started to lose themselves in discussing some ridiculous named moves and stories of old games. But nobody ever took the time to really explain the game to her. She knew the basic but the way Marcus described it, there was a lot more to it and she told him so. “You make it sound interesting.”

“It can be. Maybe you would like to come to a match with me? Ewan has his Quidditch lessons Friday afternoon. They are playing with safety brooms and soft balls and the trainer still explains all the rules to them. You might find that more informative than some books.”

A slight blush instantly coloured her cheeks. Was he asking her out? It was an invitation to his sons Quidditch lessons, but still. “I would like that, very much.”

“I'm sure Ewan would be thrilled.” Hermione sighed inwardly. Of course, he wasn't asking her out that way. “You were all he was talking about for the whole weekend.”

Even though she was somewhat disappointed that he didn't ask her because he wanted to see her again, she was pleased none the less. She adored the boy and had enjoyed every minute during her visit at their home.

“He is such a sweet boy. You and his mother did a wonderful job raising him!” She praised him but instantly noted that she had said something wrong. Sadness and anguish clouded his face with such an intensity that she felt her heart clench.

“Ewan's mother died during his birth.” Inwardly she cursed herself for her careless comment. Without thinking twice about it, she laid her hand on his arm and squeezed it gently.

“I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to bring up hurtful memories.”

“You couldn't know.”

“Sill-”

Before she could apologize again, the waitress arrived with their order and interrupted the uncomfortable moment.

“What about you?” Marcus changed the spotlight as soon as the woman left. “Don't get me wrong, you are damned good at your job, it’s just that I expected you to work at the Ministry. Changing the Wizarding world from the inside, run for Minister of Magic, or something.”

“You and everybody else.” She admitted. “But after the war, I wanted to help people and I wasn't so sure if I would accomplish that while working at the Ministry. Our world is much too stolid sometimes. Change comes frustratingly slowly sometimes and I,” shrugging she searched for the right words. “I don't know, I guess I'm not patient enough for it. Besides I'm muggleborn and prejudices still run deep.”

Marcus nodded, obviously having no illusions about their world either. “I might be a pureblood but due to my family openly supporting the Dark Lord, I'm not treated kindly.”

“But didn't you change sides or something?” Hermione asked aghast. “I think I remember someone from the Order mentioning it. You spied for our side and fought on our side.”

Shrugging he looked at her for a moment before he answered. “That might be true, but people see this,” at that he pushed the sleeve of his shirt upwards and revealed lightly faded Dark Mark. “And automatically label you as evil. Most of the time I can't really blame them as I might have done the right thing in the end but that doesn't make me a good person!”

Hermione wanted to argue. In her mind, he could not be such a bad guy if he was willing to risk his life and spy for the Order, but the shake of his head let her know that her protest wasn't favoured.

“I live with it, one day I might even make peace with it. I'm just worried about Ewan. I don't want people to treat him badly just because he wears my name. That's why I left England after the trials.”

Hermione was friends with enough Slytherins to know that he was right. They certainly weren't choirboys but Hermione was realistic enough to understand that they had been children and followed the lead of their parents. None of them had clearly decided for themselves which sides they were on, it was decided for them. Much like Draco was raised in the believes of his father, Ronald was raised in that of his family. Harry's role was clear from the start, just like her own given her muggle heritage.

It wasn't right to judge people like Marcus for what their parents had forced them to do, but she knew better than most how quick people were willing to believe the worst without asking questions to verify their opinion.

“What made you come back?”

“You can't run away forever.” He didn't look entirely convinced by his own words. “McGonagall was searching for a replacement. Obviously, her newly hired Quidditch teacher decided that children are far too much trouble and left.”

“You mean mid-term?” She couldn't help but sound scandalised. It was only Quidditch, but still! How could anyone be so irresponsible and abandon your position.

“Apparently. Logically she is in dire need for a replacement and I was asked.”

“Did you agree?”

“Eventually.” He must have seen her affronted look because he laughed. “It was no easy decision. I love Quidditch, but I'm not exactly a role-model. Not sure if I'm good at teaching.”

“I'm sure you will be great and the children will respect you. Think about your son.” She remained him and thought about the worshipping glance in Ewan's eyes as he told her about his daddy. “He adores you.” His love for his son was clearly written on his face but he quickly shrugged it off. Slytherins weren't too comfortable with showing emotion which had taken some time getting used to. She grew up with boys who seldom troubled themselves with hiding them and who had no qualms making their moods known.

Over time she had learned to cherish the ways of her snake friends.

“So how does it come that you aren't married to Potter's sidekick and waste your power and brain to raise his brood?”

Hermione could hear that he intended to tease her and get a bit information about her without sounding too interested but she wasn't able to hide her emotions as well as a Slytherin could. Regardless of how much time she spends with them. For a second she was surprised but then she remembered that he had just come back to England and probably never read those awful articles.

“We didn't work out.” Wasn't that the understatement of the year? “He's married now to Lavender Brown. Working on the brood.” She added not without bitterness. But she was not willing to ruin her afternoon with talks about Ron and Lavender. Hermione really liked Marcus, even if she didn't know him very well, but telling him about her past relationship was a sue way to make him run away or worse; pity her.

He would find out soon enough anyway. Better enjoy his company until then. It wasn't any day she had an attractive, interesting wizard to spend the afternoon with, though she could get used to it.

_No harm in dreaming a little bit, Mione._

TBC


	5. Marcus

_Three weeks later:_

For the third time that evening, Marcus tried to find a reason for not going to Adrian Purcy's birthday party. He found plenty, but none that would spare him Adrian’s wrath. Both of them had been best friends since they were old enough to sit up without help and Ade would never forgive him his absence now that he was back in England.

Since the war, Marcus wasn't overly fond of large crowds and loud noises. Unfortunately, his friend was known to throw wild and raunchy parties in the past. He just wasn't into that kind of fun anymore. He would rather spend this evening with his son, who was currently staying with a friend from his Quidditch group. Or with Hermione, the thought with a grin as he slipped into his leather jacket.

Over the last three weeks they had taken her out two times. The first was to the promised Quidditch training lesson, which she seemed to enjoy after he started explaining the rules to her. Marcus had no idea how she lacked such great deal of basic information, as most of her friends were Quidditch fanatics. Idiots, the lot of them.

After the training, he had wanted to ask her out, but was unsure how to do it. Insecurity wasn’t something he was used to, which left him at a loss what to do. Though he was fairly certain she found him attractive and enjoyed the afternoon, he could not comprehend why a witch like her would spend time with someone like him. But Slytherin to the core he knew not to over-analyse a good thing when it came to him.

His son on the other hand had no qualms in letting her know that he wanted to spend more time with her. They had planned to visit the zoo on the following Sunday and Ewan asked her to come along. Marcus hadn't lied to Hermione, when he told her his son had taken a liking to her right from the beginning. Which just added to the charm of the witch. He would never persuade a woman that couldn't find Ewan's approval. Though, since she told him about her ride on the back of a real dragon, a threstal _and_ a hippogriff, she was his hero. For a person that admitted being afraid of height it was quite the accomplishment. One day he would like to hear the stories behind each of her flights.

He was surprised about his own interest in her. It was not an unwelcome feeling just unfamiliar. In the years before Ewan's birth he'd taken many witches up on their offers, but it was never more. He never promised them anything and wasn't interested in anything that lasted longer than a weekend. During the last five years things had changed, at last in number if not the quality. As far as he could remember, Hermione was the first witch, he could imagine to be more than just a quick tumble in the sheets. In fact, he wanted it to be more than that. Her warmth and kindness pulled him towards her like a moth to the flame and ever since that day in his home he wished she would become a more permanent appearance in his life.

Maybe he should have invited her to Ade's party, but didn't want her to feel uncomfortable between his former house mates. With a sigh, he appareted away.

 

 

“What is Hermione doing here?” He asked Adrian with a stunned expression, as he watched the witch who had been domineering his mind, laugh and talk with none other than Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. They looked very familiar and at ease with each other, something that didn't sit well with him. Irritated he pushed his uncalled jealously to the side.

“Hermione, is it?” Adrian asked in a tone that let him turn his head towards him.“Since when are you on a first name basis with her?” There was no humour in his friend’s question. The way his shoulders stiffen somewhat, Marcus would have thought he was interested in the witch himself and warning a possible rival away, hadn't it been for the dreamy looking blonde Adrian had introduced as his girlfriend moments before.

“Since we met a few weeks ago.”

“You?!” Adrian gaped at him. “You are her mysterious wizard?”

“Mysterious wizard?”

“Yes. We knew she was seeing someone, she was all smiling and glowing. Well more than usual, that is, but she wouldn't tell us who. Said she wasn't sure if it wouldn't burst like a bubble if she talked about it. But I would have never guessed that it’s you.”

“You don't need to sound so scandalised. And who is we?”

“Sorry,” Ade shrugged. “We is mostly Zabini, Malfoy, the Greengrass sisters and Luna and I. We got pretty close over the last few years.”

_How close_ he wanted to ask but stopped himself before the words could slip over his tongue.

“So, what are your intentions?”

“What?!”

“Don't take it the wrong way, mate but you are not exactly known for your monogamous ways.” At the frown on his face his friend hastily added: “I know you never lied or promised anything you weren't willing to give, but Mione isn't like those slags we used to hook up with.”

His frown deepened and he could feel his anger raising dangerously close to the surface. Was he really that much of a bastard that even his best friend thought so little of him?

“I know. Do you think I would allow some slag to spend time with my son? Things aren't like they used to be. People change, but it seems nobody is willing to believe that in my case.”

Adrian winced but didn't back down. “Look Marcus I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way. I know that you aren't the same as you were six years ago. None of us are. But that witch over there grew on me and I'm just looking out for her. Somebody has to. After everything that happened she deserves some happiness. If you make her happy I have your back, but if you only plan to have some fun with her and-”

“What do you mean, after _everything that happened_?” He interrupted his friend, ignoring his incomplete warning. Marcus remembered her mentioning that she and the Weasel didn't work out, that first afternoon in Diagon Alley. It had sounded like there was a story behind it, but her obvious unwillingness to talk about it had stopped him from asking further. Now he had the opportunity to learn more about it.

“The whole affair with the Weasel.” Adrian blinked at him, slowly coming to a realisation. “You don't know do you? Well, I suppose with you spending the last five years on the other half of the world I shouldn't be so surprised.”

“Don't know what?” For a short moment, the blonde wizard in front of him seemed to muse about his answer, but in the end, he told him everything. About her engagement, the diagnoses, the fallout and how most of her so-called friends took the side of the red-haired scum. Marcus was pretty sure that nothing Voldemort or one of his Death Eaters ever did to that witch, had hurt her as much as Ronald bloody Weasley.

“I'm surprised she didn't kill him, or a last curse him so badly he wouldn't dare to show his ugly face ever again.”

“She has a temper, never doubt that. You wouldn't want to be on her bad side if she is in the mood, but in the end, she is much too kind to do everlasting damage to anyone. Sometimes I have the impression that her hurt has taken away her ability to act against him.”

Yeah, Marcus had seen that kind of soul deep pain before. Every time he had looked Madeline in the eyes it was there. He'd seen her fight against it, seen the true wish to get over everything that happened, but her memories had put her into a stupor every time she laid eyes on him.

The knowledge that the Weasel knowingly put that kind of pain on Hermione made him angry.

“Soo...” Adrian drawled pushing the dark themes aside. “You and Mione? I suppose it makes sense. Both of you have a troublesome past regarding the matters of the heart. She's all warm and charm where you are distant and grumpy.”

Marcus was not insulted, by Adrian’s words, after all it was true.

“We went out a few times, nothing really happened.” He shrugged and turned around to watch the witch in question dance with Zabini. Like before the picture irritated him.

“They are just friends.” Adrian, who noticed the shift of his attentions, told him. Marcus heard him but couldn't help the growl that left his lips as he watched his witch laughing at something Blaise said.

“Calm down mate. They are friends! But if you want to be more than just a friend to her it's on you to let her know. I doubt that she feels confident enough to make the first step. The Weasel really messed her up.”

Without sparring his friend another glance, he crossed the room towards Hermione.

 

 

“Marcus?” She sounded surprised but not unhappy as he asked (well he tried to make it sound like a question) Zabini to step in. In fact, she was bestowing him with the same blinding smile he had seen her directing in Blaise directions, moments before.

“What are you doing here?”

His mouth twitched at the irony of her question and he started to swing her over the dance floor in sync with the music. “Don't you think, I should ask you that?” With a light laugh she nodded.

“I suppose. I'm friends with a lot of Slytherins these days.”

“We make good company.”

“Yes,” she nodded and looked at him with a shy but beautiful smile before she softly added: “Yes you do.”

Surprised, in a positive way, he looked down at the witch in his arms. Maybe she wasn't so in-confident in making her wishes known as Adrian thought. He pulled her a bit closer and she didn't protest. He noticed how well she fit in his arms and how well they moved together.

Like every other pureblood his dancing skills were flawless, but he seldom used them. With Hermione's warm body in front of him, her flowery sweet scent in his nose and the smooth feel of her skin under his hands he could be persuaded to do it more often in the future.

They didn't talk much, just danced in close proximity. One or two times some stupid wizard tried to step in and ask her for the next dance, but one look in his eyes had them hurriedly changing direction. Marcus was aware that a lot of his friends were staring at them, but he could care less. The peaceful feeling that flooded through him soothed him and soon let him forget about his surroundings.

Unfortunately, the music changed to a more loud and quick beat after a few songs and Marcus wasn't up to jump and stomp and make an idiot out of him, so he asked her if she wanted a drink and was grateful when she agreed.

The rest of the night they spent talking, in a more silent corner of Adrian’s home. They never crossed the dark themes. Neither his past as a Death Eater nor her unpleasant fallout with the Weasel came up. Marcus knew that at one time they had to talk about those things, if they wanted to deepen what was between them and he didn't doubt any longer that they both wanted that. But for tonight they concentrated on more pleasant topics. He laughed, smiled and talked more in those hours than he remembered doing in the last few years combined.

In the end he accompanied her home, but did not let her step through her door, before she agreed to go on a proper date with him the next evening.

He could feel his chest puff up with satisfaction, as he noticed the beaming smile that lit up her hole face while she hastily nodded her head yes. Marcus wanted to kiss her, but wasn't sure if it was too early for such a step. While he was still arguing with himself, Hermione took the decision from him and leant upwards while her fingers pulled lightly on his jacked, so he would bend his head. She was much too small to reach her goal on her own. Only too happy to oblique her he followed her silent demand and brushed his lips over her lips.

Kissing had never been something special to him. It was means to an end to get to the good part, so he was surprised to realise how much power a single kiss could possess.

Their kiss started slow, nearly hesitant, but soon changed into something more passionate. His hands gently cupped her face while her fingers were buried in his jacket as if she feared he would leave her.

Though nothing could be farer from the truth, Marcus knew he had to stop. Otherwise that kiss would get out of control and neither of them was ready for that step. With a grown he leant back and couldn't help the smug grin that graced his lips as he heard her moan in protested and tried to pull him down again. The look of pure lust in her eyes and the sight of her swollen red lips was nearly enough for him to give in.

Taking a deep breath, he gripped her hands in his and kissed her knuckles softly before he let them sink again. “As much, as I would like to continue I don't think that is wise.”

The look in her eyes turned from lust, to confusion and finally to shame and hurt. It took him a moment to understand that she thought he was rejecting her.

“Oh, of course I-” Before she could speak again and pull her fingers from his grip, he kissed her again. The kiss was short, but it was impossible to miss the heat in it.

“I want you, never doubt that. But if we continue this, there are a few things you should know about me first. Okay?” Still a bit dazed from the kiss, she blinked a few times before she finally nodded.

“Yes. You are right. There are some things you should know about me as well.”

He didn't tell her that Adrian had already told him about her past, he just nodded.

“Alright. Tomorrow then.” With a last kiss to her knuckles he stepped back and watched her entering through the door.

He didn't notice the person, who stood hidden under a tree on the other side of the street, nor had either of them noticed the magical camera making snap-shots of their kissing sessions.

Blissfully unaware of what lay before them, Marcus apparated home with a happy smile on his face.

 

TBC


	6. Hermione

_The next morning:_

Once again Hermione found herself breaking out in tears, while reading the newspaper. This time though it wasn't only Blaise stepping through her floo. From one minute to the other her house was filled with most of her friends. Regardless if Gryffindor, Ravenclaw or Slytherin they all had one thing in common, they all looked angry.

Not that she noticed much of it. She was still starring at the photos of Marcus and her kissing on her front porch and the nasty article blow it. Marcus was portrayed as a Death Eater who was spared Azkaban, because he convinced the right people that he switched sides. The really nasty part though, was about his son being the result of him raping a half-blood witch on one of his raids.

She herself was once again described as a money and fame hungry bitch, who left a long tail of broken hearts behind her. Skeeter also didn't forget to mention her inability to bear children and hinted that her intentions, concerning Marcus, might be more about the boy, than the man.

Once again Hermione asked herself why she allowed the cruel, little insect out of her jar. She should have hidden her in the Room of Requirement or threw her into the Veil. Wouldn't it go against her own moral believes she still might be tempered to do so.

“Mione? Mione!” Snipping finger in front of her face finally turned her attention elsewhere. She realised that Blaise must have called her name for a while.

“Mione, are you okay?” The look she spared Draco made him wince and mumble an apology for asking in the first place. Everyone else was talking at once and Hermione just wished they would leave her alone. Looking around the room she noticed that Adrian was absent and she asked about him.

“Oh, he flooed over to Marcus, to stop him from murdering Rita Skeeter.” The words had just left Luna's mouth as the floo activated again and the man in question stepped out of it. Followed by Marcus who held a confused looking Ewan in his arms. But as soon as the boy noticed her among the crowed his face lit up with a bright smile that made her heart leap with an unexpected happiness.

“Mione!” He squealed and wiggled out of his father’s arms so he could run over to her. He climbed up on the chair beside her and looked at her with big blue eyes, that turned worried as he noticed her tears. “Are you sad?”

“A little bit.” She tried to smile at him but she was sure it ended in a grimace. Before she knew it, he had crawled in her lap. “Maybe you need a hug? Daddy hugs me if I have a bad dream or when I'm sick.”

This time she smiled. “Maybe we should give it a try.” He nodded enthusiastically and raised his hands so he could sling them around her neck. Without hesitation, she leant forward and hugged him back. Some of the hurt, she felt over being humiliated in front of the whole Wizarding World, lessened as she felt Ewan's warm open hug. He was such a sweet little boy, which reminded her once again that she would never know what it would feel like to hold baby in her arms. Her eyes wandered around the room, which had emptied considerable leaving only Adrian, Luna and Marcus. The latter starred at her with such an intensity that she felt unable to look away until Ewan loosened his grip around her and leant back.

“Do you feel better?”

She couldn't help but laugh a little, it came out more than a sob but it was a start. “You were right, a hug was exactly what I needed. And you are very good a giving them.”

A proud smile hushed over his lips. Before he could say anything else his father was standing beside them. “Ewan, I need to speak with Hermione. I want you to go with uncle Adrian for a while.” The boy wanted to protest, that was clear but one look at his father made him realise that it would lead him nowhere.

“Okay, but you have to cheer her up for me.” He told him with such an earnest frown that Hermione could feel her lips twitch.

“I will do my best, mate. And you be a good boy, while you are at Adrian and Luna.” With that he pulled his son from her lap carried him over to his friend. A moment later she could hear her floo activate again two times in a row. After that there was silence. Hermione didn't turn around, but she knew Marcus was still there, she could feel his eyes boring into her back.

“I'm sorry.” She whispered.

“What are you sorry for?” He sounded surprised.

“If not for me, Skeeter wouldn't have written those awful things about you. She hates me and never misses an opportunity to humiliate me.” Just yesterday she had felt so happy. Although she should have expected Marcus to be at Adrian's birthday party, she was surprised by his sudden appearance in front of her and even more about his dancing skills. His tall frame and muscular build had made her feel all delicate and feminine and she had enjoyed it immensely. The highlight of her Cinderella like evening had been the kiss on her porch, but of course it was too good to be true. This morning all the fairy godmother magic was gone.

“Hermione,” he was suddenly kneeling in front of her and took her twitching hands in his own.“This is not your fault.”

“But she only wrote that nasty stuff over you to get back to me. Without me you wouldn't-”

“No.” He interrupted her. “She wrote it to hurt you and she used my past to do that.”

“But you changed sides! It must have been hard to go against your family and everything you have been raised up to. But in the end your decision saved a lot of people, she has no right to belittle your sacrifice.” She objected. “And she had absolutely no right to drag Ewan into this.”

“But she was right.”

“What?” Finally, she raised her eyes to look at him. The expression in his eyes was one of shame and regret, but he didn't lower his graze.

“The part about Ewan, how he was conceived, it is true.”

Hermione swallowed. Her first instinct was to bring as much space between them as possible, but she stopped herself. If nothing else she was a rational person, there had to be more to that story than what her mind automatically jumped to.

“Tell me,” she told him firmly after she made up her mind. Yesterday he had told her that there were some things they needed to talk about, before they continued whatever that was between them.

With a deep sigh, he squeezed her hands lightly and started to tell her about his life after he left Hogwarts. He did not gloss things over, neither about his wild time with a lot of Quidditch groupies nor about the things he was forced to do as a Death Eater. It wasn't hard to see the disgust and anguish in his eyes as he told her about the raid, where his own farther had made him rape the witch who was Ewan's mother. He described how he had brought her -Madeline- to Kingsley's sister and how the man himself had made him realize that it was on him, if he wanted things to change.

“What really changed me was, when Valerie told me about the pregnancy. I didn't want my child to grew up like me. To live in a world where some manic ruled.”

Hermione nodded. She could understand that.

“I'm not a good man, Hermione. Regardless of what I did in the end, I can't and won't deny that I've done many things that I'm not very proud of. What I did to Madeline is something that can never be forgiven.”

“You said she forgave you.”

“Maybe, but I will never forgive myself. Nonetheless, I love my son. He was the best thing that ever happened to me.” At that she smiled lightly but likewise felt her heart hurt. Her hand gently cupped his cheek, which felt a bit rough as if he had forgotten to shave this morning.

“The war took my chance to have children.” She realised that this was the opportunity to come clean and after he told her about his past, it was only fair to tell him about her own. With a shaky breath, she told him about her torture at Malfoy Manor through Bellatrix LeStrange and how it had probably reduced her change to be a mother. He didn't tell her that three percent were enough to keep hope, like Ron did all those years ago. Marcus simply kissed the inside of her palms and waited for her to continue.

So, she told him about Ron and his betrayal and how embarrassed and hurt she had felt about everything that happened afterwards. How Skeeter had publicly humiliated her, how Lavender had taken her place and rubbed her pregnancy under her nose, how most of her friends had drifted away from her when she wouldn't finally get over it.

“During school, I wasn't even sure if I ever wanted to have kids, my studies were my priority. But the moment that healer told me it would take a small wonder for me to ever be a mother, I would have given everything to hold a baby in my arms.” Fresh tears leaked down her cheeks and before she knew it she was sitting in Marcus lap, hear head buried against his neck while he whispered soft words of comfort to her.

How she could feel so safe and secure in the arms of someone she barely knew, she didn't know and she didn't really care. She wanted it to last. More so Hermione wanted it to have the chance to really start, in the first place. A few shared afternoons and a kiss didn't make a relationship, after all.

Her doubts remained the same. Could Marcus, could any man for that matter, really be interested in a serious relationship with a woman who couldn't bear him children?

On the other hand, he did have a child. A son at that, maybe that was enough for him to forget that she was damaged.

“Don't talk about yourself like that. You are not damaged. And I'm not anything like that ginger-haired fool.”

Wincing she realised that she must have spoken out loud. Lightly he pushed her away from him, enough to look her in the eyes. “I like you Hermione and I want you. But this is completely new for me and I have no idea how to do it right. I had lots of women, but none of them ever meant something to me. You are different.” Not exactly a declaration of love, but honest.

“I would like to give us a chance.” The look he gave her made her realise that he was nervous and unsure of himself. Regardless of his confident behaviour he seemed as conflicted with himself as she herself. Could they, damaged and hurt as they both were, really make this work? The attraction was there, that much was clear and their hurtful experience might make them more understanding regarding the worries and fears the other party nourished.

_Do not over think everything, Hermione._

“I would like that, too.”


	7. Epilogue

Three years later:

Marcus Flint was crying and was not ashamed to show it. The moment the baby in his arms opened her eyes to look at him, her eyes a perfect replica of her mothers, he knew he was head over heels in love.

“It seems after all this years, another woman did finally manage to win your heart.” Hermione joked weakly, but happy. Instantly his eyes landed on the witch, that lay on a bed beside him. Even in the ugly hospital grown, tired and sweaty from giving birth to their daughter, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“Only because she is a part of you.” He replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She beamed at him than. Marcus kissed the little bundle in his arms and put her back into her mother’s waiting arms. Like before, Hermione starred at the baby in wonder and Marcus felt his chest burst in happiness. Who would have thought that his life would turn out like this?

“Will you get Ewan?”

He nodded and went to fetch his son, who was waiting in front of the doors with the rest of their friends. As soon as he stepped outside he was surrounded by excited looking witches and wizards. They all had supported Hermione and his relationship from the beginning and Marcus knew they all deserved to have a look at his daughter, but for the moment he wanted to keep her to himself and his family.

“Ewan, do you want to meet your sister?” The boy nodded excitedly and slipped inside the room while he stayed for a moment to answer all the questions. When he returned, Ewan was sitting in front of Hermione who helped him to hold his baby sister.

He stopped in his tracks and took a minute to just watch his little family for a moment. Three years ago, when Hermione and he decided to give themselves a chance he would never have thought it would be like this. So utterly.... perfect.

They barely knew each other in the beginning and quickly discovered that they couldn't be more different in so many ways. But instead of drifting them apart, like he first feared it pushed them more closely together. They complimented each other, although that didn't mean they never argued with each other. Grinning, he thought about how most of those quarrels ended and knew he didn't mind them from time to time.

Hermione Granger, now Flint, was the best damned thing that ever happened to him beside his children and Marcus wouldn't give her up for anything. Why Ronald Weasley would push her aside for that annoying bind he would never know. But he would love to see his face when he read about the birth of their daughter. Three percent might not be much, but apparently enough to accomplish a small wonder.

With a happy satisfied smile, he walked towards the bed and sat down, kissing his wife and ruffling through Ewan's hair.

“What will be her name, mum?” Marcus could see Hermione's eyes flash with pleasure, like they always did, since the first time Ewan had asked her if he could call her mum instead of Mione. The eyes of his wife searched his own. He pondered a moment over the silent question he could read in them.

“What do you think of Theadora?”

“Theadora,” she tested the name.

“Gift of god.” Of course, he did not have to explain the meaning to her. She smiled at him. “I love it.” With that she snuggled closer to him and leant her head against his shoulders.

Through the windows he could see the night giving away to a day that promised to be warm and light.

Just like their lives.

***fin***


End file.
